


Unexpected

by liminalist



Category: X-Men (Alternate Timeline Movies)
Genre: Canon Disabled Character, Charles in a Wheelchair, Disability, Erik Has Feelings, Fix The Story Not the Disability, Hand Jobs, Hot Sex, M/M, Other Erogenous Zones, Porn with Feelings, Post Beach Divorce, Sex Positive, X-Men: First Class (2011), sex with disability is hot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-21
Updated: 2017-11-21
Packaged: 2019-02-05 05:31:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,637
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12788061
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/liminalist/pseuds/liminalist
Summary: Six weeks after the beach divorce, Erik makes an unexpected visit.





	Unexpected

**Author's Note:**

> There are some descriptions of Charles' paraplegia here, but you can read them as either a temporary part of the healing process after Cuba, or part of his permanent disability. I really wanted to explore the unique hotness of sex with disability, so I'd love feedback! Also, first time writing Charles' telepathic ability, so be gentle. :)

He lets his mind wander as he stares into the flames. The wind batters the rain against the windows of his study, and it drowns out the crackling of the fire. He marries the sensations in his mind until he can almost feel raindrops on the hot skin of his cheeks. He shivers and doesn’t know why.

“Charles,” a familiar voice says from behind him. _Ah, that’s why._

He turns his wheelchair to find Erik on an old settee that Hank had pushed against the wall to make more room for Charles to maneuver. He’s dressed in black from head to toe, with a hood covering his head and the stiff collar of his peacoat turned up. He looks like a burglar who’s stayed to tea. _Not a drop of water on him_ , Charles thinks, and just for a moment, fondly reflects on the many clever ways Erik has of avoiding the weather.

Erik pulls the hood down to reveal that metal monstrosity underneath. Charles feels a rush of anger at the sight of it and looks away.

“Why are you here, Erik?” He doesn’t try to keep the bitterness out of his voice.

Erik crosses his legs as if he’s been given permission to stay. He has, in a way. They both know Charles could call his protégés with a thought. Yet here they are, alone together like so many nights before.

Erik meets his eyes. Steady and inscrutable as always, but he looks tired. “I left something behind. Something very dear to me, and I’m in need of it just now.”

Charles scoffs, but Erik doesn’t even blink. Instead he stands and comes closer. He pauses when he’s close enough that Charles has to tip his head back to maintain eye contact. A deference of sorts. Charles doesn’t want it. He sits up straighter in his chair, and Erik starts moving again.

He stops a foot from Charles and waves his hand, locking the wheelchair breaks. Charles is indignant and about to erupt when Erik lowers himself to his knees. Charles is shocked out of his anger, but its vestiges are still with him. His heart is pounding and his skin, hot.

Erik stares up at him and Charles wishes more than anything to be rid of the stranglehold the helmet has on this moment. It’s been six weeks since they parted ways, but Charles has never felt more separated from Erik than he does now. To love him and not feel the edges of his mind is like utter darkness, like death. Like there’s a hole in his chest and cold air rushing through.

His hand reaches out without his permission, but before he can make contact, Erik slowly pulls the helmet off.

A brief moment, then Charles inhales so violently that it burns his lungs and pushes him into the back of his chair. Erik isn’t just suddenly present, he’s pushing wave after wave of images and emotions. Charles sees with his eyes in real time, watches Erik’s hair fall back into place after the helmet is removed, but his mind moves infinitely faster, spun in a vortex of Erik’s memories. From the moment Charles pulled him from dark waters to the exhausting intimacy of training. The road trips, the fighting words, the heated glances over chess and brandy. Feeling challenged. Feeling at home. So many times they touched—Charles putting his hand on the small of Erik’s back, clapping him on the shoulder, touching the back of his neck—each leaving Erik’s blood ringing in his ears. The nights Erik spent in the mansion, roughly stripping his cock thinking of Charles’ fingers, his mouth, his stubborn goodness, and his blue, blue eyes. And all the nights they’ve been apart, with Erik alone, awake, sinking into something like despair.

Charles exhales and comes back to himself, wrung out and wound up, and looks down into Erik’s wide eyes. He pushes a feeling back to Erik, ever so gently. In this, at least, he knows his own strength. He knows that Erik is fragile here—that a push too far could break their trust. So he sends a muted hue, a quiet whisper of _don’t stop_.

Erik’s hands move quickly at first, picking up Charles’ feet and folding the chair’s footplates back and out of the way. Then slower, he sets Charles’ feet apart, spreading his legs just wide enough to make Charles blush. Erik moves between his thighs, and Charles swallows hard. He wants to keep his eyes open and on Erik, but lets them flutter shut when Erik slips both arms around his waist. He gasps when Erik forcefully tugs him to the edge of his seat, leaving only a sliver of light between them.

This close, Charles can feel the heat pouring of Erik’s body, his breath against the base of Charles’ throat. Erik slowly pushes his fingers up through Charles’ hair, and Charles is met with a tide of images from Erik’s fantasies: holding on during long, deep kisses; pulling Charles’ head back when he comes; curling around his fingers when he pulls Charles close. _How I’ve wanted this_ , Erik thinks. With Erik’s voice rippling through his mind for the first time in ages, Charles leans down and brings their mouths together.

The first touch feels electric, and there is suddenly no room for waiting. They have waited long enough, the both of them. Charles grabs fistfuls of Erik’s peacoat, struggling to push it from tight shoulders, but it’s Erik who can’t keep from thinking _let me in, let me in, let me in_. His fingertips touch the corners of Charles’ mouth, the underside of his chin, his neck, and Charles opens up for him. Erik moans at his acquiescence as if it’s a surprise, and chases Charles’ tongue with his own.

Erik’s hands slide down the sides of his neck, and he gasps and arches forward with his upper body. His reaction is so strong that Erik’s mouth leaves his, eager to latch onto the sensitive spot, to call out that gasp again. This time Charles shudders in his arms and collapses his forehead onto a black-clad shoulder. His mouth waters and he can’t help himself. He reaches down to palm Erik through his trousers, and Erik thrusts forward on instinct.

It propels Erik to action, and he leans back to rid himself of his coat. Then he stands, and Charles almost topples forward chasing his heat. Erik shoves one arm under his legs and the other around his waist and lifts, and Charles feels the chair move out from under him and slam against the wall behind him. He’s never been so grateful for Erik’s gifts.

Erik takes care to lay him down on the carpet by the fire, then stands and stares down at him, breathless. He pulls the sweatshirt over his head then strips from the waist down. Charles eyes travel up from bare feet, over strong thighs, to the thick cock curved slightly against his belly. He knows now that this won’t be easy between them.

Charles props himself up on his elbows, and looks into stormy eyes. _This cannot be what you’re expecting_.

Erik uses his voice to answer, deep and determined, “I’ve never wanted what was expected.” He squats next to Charles, his sex heavy between his legs. _I want to see you_.

Charles lies flat, mind racing, and begins to unbutton his cardigan. He closes his eyes when he feels Erik lift each leg in turn, stripping him of socks and shoes. Erik crawls up beside him and helps him struggle out of his shirt.

Erik bends his head to trace the curve of his shoulder with wet, open kisses. The side of his body close to the fire is hot to the touch, and Erik’s mouth feels like a salve on a burn. His other side is cool in the shadows, tickled by Erik’s hair as it falls forward. Charles tries to catalog every sensation, every movement, but his head is already swimming with arousal. He skims his hands over the corded muscles of Erik’s arms and lets his mind go. _Erik._ “Erik,” he says aloud, and Erik kisses him deep, as if he’s following his own name to the source.

The scrape of his beard and the lush of his mouth are almost too much to bear when Erik suddenly pulls back. He reaches for Charles’ belt and Charles reflexively reaches out to stop him. When their eyes meet all he can hear is Erik’s plea, like a refrain stoking a white hot flame inside him: _let me in, let me in, let me in_.

Erik slides the belt from its loops and Charles props himself up again to watch as Erik slowly pulls down the zipper and strips him. _So careful_ , he thinks.

_Only with you_ , Erik replies. They both know it’s true.

Charles tenses as Erik works his trousers over his leg bag, waiting for some reaction. He doesn’t know what. When he’s finally bare from head to toe, he blushes.

_Let me be selfish a moment?_ The question stirs something deep in his chest, beyond words and images. He nods and watches Erik part his thighs and lower himself into the cradle of Charles’ hips. He bends his head to Charles’ cock and nuzzles the base. _God, you smell so good here—just a taste, please just a taste_ —and he opens his mouth. The sight of his wet lower lip catching on his sex, the tip of his tongue running along the shaft—it’s enough to make Charles groan. He can’t care anymore that his cock lays soft in the palm of Erik’s hand, angry and swollen at the tip where the catheter disappears inside him. He watches Erik tremble, watches his eyes roll back, and revels in the deep moan Erik muffles against him. His eyes skim across the golden expanse of Erik’s back, the shifting of his sharp shoulder blades, the rise of his buttocks—how they dimple as Erik ruts mindlessly against his leg. Charles has never wanted anyone more.

Erik rises up and they share a bated breath, too close to focus on one another, and Erik slips his tongue between Charles’ parted lips. Drowning in the taste of his sex in Erik’s mouth, he makes a noise he has never heard himself make, mewling like some animal. He touches every bit of Erik he can reach, greedy for the sweat and heat of him, and digs his nails into Erik’s biceps. Erik tears his mouth away to hiss at the sting of it, and when he meets Charles’ eyes a shark-like smile begins to spread across his face. _Mein Bärchen_.

Charles would be offended at the diminutive, but when he drags his nails down, breaking the skin, Erik’s eyes go dark and his breathing, heavy. _Sheisse_.

_Better_ , Charles thinks. Then his mind reels as Erik kisses his stomach, dipping the point of his tongue into Charles’ bellybutton. The heat of—filthy and full of promise—has him writhing, grabbing at the carpet underneath him. When Erik gently bites down, Charles cries out.

More hot kisses up his sides, tracing his ribs in an endless, infuriating tickle that makes Charles roll his shoulders and bear his neck. Erik sees his prize, and thrusts two hands in his hair, keeping Charles taught and on the precipice. He licks, kisses, bites up the column of Charles’ throat—and Charles can feel it everywhere, his blood is on fire rushing from his heart to his fingertips and back again. Erik fills his senses and spreads him out endlessly, until he shifts his attention to the side of Charles neck, mouthing down into the crook, and Charles feels all his desire hone to a single point. His body seizes and all he can think is _more more more don’t stop don’t stop_ and when Erik applies even the slightest suction, he feels the white hot pressure inside him explode, raining sparks over his body. He cries and convulses, tears streaming down his face, and Erik never stops, never stops—until Charles pleads with him to let go.

Pleasure ripples through Charles’ body until he feels limp with it, helpless, shuddering in Erik’s arms. He rests his burning cheek against Erik’s shoulder, and Erik strokes him, from head to waist and up again. _Charles, Charles, meine liebe_ —the words echo through him until he’s boneless.

Erik holds his face in both hands and kisses the wetness on his cheeks. _Tell me, tell me_ , he says.

“I’d rather show you,” Charles says. “Move up for me.” He’s met with a look that borders on confusion and responds with a smile. Erik moves to kiss him but Charles laughs and pushes weakly at Erik’s shoulder. “Move up,” he says again, delighted and free.

Erik does, and Charles reaches down to pull a strong thigh across his stomach and licks his lips at the sight. Perfectly exposed, Erik’s cock twitches before Charles can touch. Elegant, weeping, and so very hard, like the man himself. He runs a hand from balls to tip and Erik’s hips stutter. For a moment his hands scramble on Charles’ shoulders trying not to grip, until his thumb finds that spot that spot on his neck still sensitive from before. Charles growls and wraps his fingers around Erik.

“ _Fuck_ —“ the word is punched out of Erik as his stomach tightens, and Charles starts stroking him in earnest with a grip just shy of painful.

Erik’s so close already, and Charles feels like his heart is on fire. He closes his eyes and takes in the musky scent of Erik’s body, the heat coming off him in the tight, dark spaces between them. Erik grunts and the sound mingles with the obscene, slick sounds of Charles’ fingers working in a tight ring. Charles turns and licks a stripe up Erik’s forearm, and Erik keens at the touch.

_Look at me_. Charles tilts up as Erik looks down, eyes meeting as Erik thrusts into his grip. Erik looks wild and undone: sweat beading at his hairline, mouth slack with pleasure, lids heavy. So much strength and composure finally yielding to something other than rage.

His head starts to roll back, but Charles won’t have it. _Look at me_ , he says again, and Erik holds his head in both hands, trying to focus even as his control abandons him. For the first time, Charles pushes images of his own. Not just all the nights past when Charles had turned in his bed sheets, painfully hard and wanting Erik desperately—but nights yet to come, things they haven’t had time to want. Erik lavishing kisses down his back. Choking on Erik’s cock until his eyes water. Erik sweating on all fours as Charles licks his hole until he begs and breaks--

The connection between them is too intense, and with a strangled cry Erik explodes in his hand, spurting over his fist and onto Charles’ belly. Charles wrings out every last drop, every spasm and groan, until Erik collapses half on top of him.

Charles uses his other hand to rub the slick into his skin, then sucks the rest off his fingers, humming contentedly. Erik shifts down and touches his forehead to Charles’, shivering at the sight until he can’t help but bring their mouths together. Fingers caught between them, their tongues meet messily around the sensitive skin of Charles’ fingers. They go on and on until they can’t any longer, until they’re just sharing breath.

They look at one another like everything is new. Charles lifts a heavy hand to Erik’s chest. _Beautiful_ , he thinks, as his eyes begin to slide shut.

The last thing he hears before sleep takes him is Erik’s voice, so very close.

“Yes.”

**Author's Note:**

> Mein Bärchen - my little bear  
> Sheisse - shit  
> meine liebe - my love


End file.
